


Common Ground

by helsinkibaby



Category: The West Wing
Genre: Alternate Universe, Background Romance, F/M, Gen, May December relationship, political wives
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-31
Updated: 2019-03-31
Packaged: 2019-12-30 01:57:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,315
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18305834
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/helsinkibaby/pseuds/helsinkibaby
Summary: Before their husbands were candidates for President and Vice President, Helen Santos had never met Ainsley Hayes. On the way to a campaign stop, she finds out they have more in common than just their hair colour.





	Common Ground

**Author's Note:**

> Oh so totally AU it’s not even funny but I don’t care. Written for the trope bingo prompt “ May December Romance”

When Helen’s husband had decided to run for president, Helen had backed him, mostly wholeheartedly. She’d had a few reservations, mostly to do with the kids, but once push had come to shove and the primaries were in full swing, she’d come out swinging too, ready to support him. 

Winning the nomination against all odds, that speech he’d given at the Convention, that had been a spectacular high point, right up there with her wedding day, the births of her children. 

But she’s starting to realise she’d underestimated just how much work she’d have to do as the candidate’s wife. 

Like today, when she’s glad-handing another round of voters while her daughter is at home in Texas with a serious case of the sniffles. Which doesn’t sound serious at all, and Helen knows her mom can handle it just fine. But Miranda had sounded miserable on the phone last night and mommy guilt is packing Helen’s bags and sending her on quite the trip. 

She pastes a smile on her face as she walks to the car, flashbulbs popping the whole way, and only when the door closes behind her does she give in to her grimace, resting her elbow against the tinted glass window, closing her eyes and pinching the bridge of her nose. 

A couple of deep breaths later, she becomes aware she’s not alone. Opening her eyes, she looks to her right, finds Ainsley giving her a sympathetic smile. “I won’t ask how you’re feeling,” the other woman says and Helen’s own lips twist in something akin to a smile. 

“I think Miranda’s coming down with something.” She surprises herself by saying the words out loud. “And I missed Peter’s last two soccer matches. I guess I’m just not used to being away from them.” 

Ainsley is nodding like she understands. “I can imagine how hard that must be for you,” she says. “I’m finding this… challenging.” There’s a long pause before the last word, one that involves her narrowing her eyes, furrowing her brow. It also makes Helen look at her sharply because in the few weeks they’ve been doing this, Leo’s wife has been nothing but a ray of sunshine and positivity. Of course, she and Helen had only met for the first time literally two minutes before they’d been ushered out onto the convention stage with their husbands so it’s not like they’ve had a chance to bond. “I can’t even begin to fathom how you can do this with children in the mix.” 

Neither can Helen and she’s actually doing it. “My mother’s getting an amazing Christmas present this year, that’s for sure,” she quips. The grin Ainsley gives her is wide and genuine but looking closely at her, Helen can see the dark circles, artfully hidden by concealer, underneath her eyes. “I never asked how you’re holding up,” she says. “I mean, this was kinda sprung on you at the last minute…”

Ainsley chuckles but it doesn’t sound amused. “You think?” She shakes her head. “I was only in San Diego to support Leo, make sure he took care of himself.” She purses her lips. “He forgets, since his heart attack, he can’t work like he used to.” She actually shudders . “Next thing I know, I’m up on that stage in front of thousands of cheering people.” 

In her mind’s eye, Helen can see the sight, can still hear the cheers. It sends goosebumps up her spine, every time. She also remembers one of the photographs that had been on the internet, her in the middle, dressed in white, Abbey Bartlet to her left in blue, Ainsley on her right dressed in red. The press had taken one look at the colour palette and run with it, which had brought forth several amused comments from Zoey Bartlet who, wearing green and on the opposite side of her mother, had been cropped out of the picture entirely. 

“You never suspected?” she asks now, echoing what several commentators had intimated. “You had a red suit ready to go…”

Ainsley shrugs, her cheeks taking on a slightly pink tinge. “Leo likes me in red,” she says simply and Helen’s jaw drops as she realises they’re getting dangerously close to too much information. “It was also the most wife of the candidate thing I had, so…” She shrugs again. “Besides, I’ve always been careful how I dress since the press found out about us. I don’t know if you saw any of the coverage-”

“I did.” Helen knows her lips are set in a thin line. “I thought it was despicable.” She hadn’t known Leo then - she thinks she’d probably shaken his hand once or twice at some Congressional thing or other, but she can’t remember exactly - but she remembers hearing the news about his heart attack. Remembers seeing the newspapers discovering that he’d quietly remarried a little over a year earlier, to a woman some fifteen years his junior, remembers how the story had been splashed everywhere and made into something sensational and salacious. There had been some internet headlines and jokes that had literally turned Helen’s stomach, threatened to do likewise now. 

“Thank you.” Ainsley’s smile is tight but genuine. “It was nothing we hadn’t heard before, of course. Even some members of our own family were… less than supportive. And I’d heard all the wisecracks, sometimes as jokes from my girlfriends, sometimes as whispers behind my back… but seeing it written down…”

Helen is a Congressman’s wife, now a Presidential Candidate’s wife. She’s seen her own fair share of ugly things written down. “It’s always worse in black and white.” 

“I never understood it.” Ainsley’s voice is stronger now, more impassioned, if a little disbelieving. “All I did was fall in love with a man I met at work. How many people do that every day? And suddenly my private life is all over the airwaves.” 

“I know how that feels.” Helen can’t keep the bitterness out of her voice, memories of a hotel room in Cleveland springing immediately to mind. “At least Matt and I chose this way of life… did you even have time to talk about this with Leo?” 

“About five minutes.” Ainsley’s lips twitch. “If I’d had six, your husband might have had a different answer.” 

Helen actually laughs at that; a first on a stop like this. This is the first proper conversation she’s had with Ainsley, she realises, and she’s learning that she really likes her. “For what it’s worth? I’m glad you only had five.” 

Ainsley smiles. “The President asked Leo to serve,” she says. “He takes that very seriously.” There’s a dry tone to her voice that Helen recognises once. “I never wanted all this…” Ainsley waves her hand. “Hoopla. With the administration ending, with his health, I thought he’d retire. Do a lecture here and there. Write a book. I’d see about cutting down my hours at work, we could travel a little…” She sounds wistful. 

Helen knows how she feels. “Matt wasn’t going to run for re-election. We hadn’t exactly figured out what he was going to do afterwards, we thought we’d think about it first… we were going to have a quiet, family Christmas together, spend the new year evaluating our options… I was just looking forward to having him home.” 

There’s a moment of silence where they meet each other’s eyes. 

Perhaps characteristically, Ainsley is the one who breaks it. “This probably wasn’t what divorce was meant for, is it?” 

Once again, Helen finds herself laughing, and Ainsley joins in. 

They’re still laughing when the car slows down and they reach their destination, grinning as the Secret Service opens the doors and they are once more faced with the click of cameras and people calling their names. 

This time, though, Helen feels several pounds lighter, like she’s not as alone in this as she’d previously thought.


End file.
